Max Payne 3 Man on Fire
by Frank Martin
Summary: My take on the third chapter in the series. Please send feedback, and as always enjoy!


Max Payne 3: Man on Fire

Chapter One

"Max Payne." The name slipped his lips. The man in question sat on the street corner, ragged looking. He took another sip from the whiskey bottle and sat it down next to his feet. He watched as the world swirled around him, a cornocopia of sounds and smells. To him it all blurred together, nothing really mattered to him. Former NYPD detective Max Payne had hit an all time low. This was his payment for his sins, to live on the streets drink himself to death. Max's rugged good looks were replaced with long hair covered by a hat. A long scraggley beard, pale skin, he looked like the walking dead. The PD was still after him over Winterson's death, and without Alfred Wooden he would be sitting on death row. But maybe sitting in a jail cell waiting for his death wasn't such a bad idea. He never understood that night at Wooden's mansion after he killed Vlad, and the hospital, why he ran. _Coward. _Deep down that was a possibility. Without support, maybe he truly was a coward. Hell at least sitting in a cell he was guaranteed three meals a day, and a place to sleep.. _Then when comes time, you can finally go to hell. Max Payne will be no more, for the better._ Max knew that deep down, he should have just surrendered to cops. Bravura survived his shooting, he knew he could convince him to help him. _But where would that get you Max? You think Bravura will believe your bullshit cockamaimy story?_ In the hospital, Max knew that Bravura was fully convinced that he was guilty of the murder, he could see it in his eyes. Yet part of him wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe he had come to a realization that Max didnt commit the crimes. But there was no other evidence to prove his innocence. _Have you forgotten about Mona, Max? The woman who still haunts your dreams, like i do Maxie boy?_ Voices in his head began to clutter. It seemed that Vlad was never silenced. More like his damned soul haunts him. _Max you couldnt be more wrong. You didn't kill me, I killed you. Your hopes, your dreams, gone. I love to..see you suffer. Payback is bitch, isnt it, old friend?_ His own personal demons, himself, Vlad, and Mona all there to haunt him until the day he died. Max picked the bottle of whiskey up, and stared at the dark fiery liquid. He reached in his pocket, and withdrew a lighter sizing up both the liquid and the lighter. _Do it Max.. You know you want to. Vlad agrees with me, burn with us..._ He began to turn the bottle, and pour out the liquid, somebody stepped in front of him. "Max Payne?" Said the person. Max looked up squinting from the light, and standing was a NYPD police officer. Max cursed under his breath. "It took you guys long enough." He replied standing up, and holding his wrists out.

He sat in the back of the squad car, the world outside was blur like all the time. The police officer look genuinally happy, he should be. Max had been on the run for three and a half years, and was a cop killer. Labeled as such, by the own men he worked with. The biggest catch of year for the cop, possibly a promotion. _Come on Maxie boy, you knew that this would eventually happen. A cop killer can't hide for long..._

Max sat in front of the desk of Deputy Police Cheif Jim Bravura. The man has significally aged in the last three and half years. "Jesus Christ Max, you look like shit." He said studying Max. "Likewise." Max replied. Bravura sat back, and coughed lightly. "Its nice to see that your ok Jim." Max said breaking the uncomfortable silence. Bravura coughed again. "Max, why did you run? How was after you that night, why was i shot? Most importantly why did you kill Winterson?" Max felt the venom in the last part, finally solidifying that Bravura knew Max was guilty, but didnt know why. Max had hoped that he would have thought that he didnt kill Winterson, blaming it on Mona. Which would have made things a whole hell of alot better, between them both. _ Fuck you Max, you piece of shit. Point the damn finger at me. _"I dont know who is after me, why you got pulled in, but I do know why I killed Winterson." _Good Max, get it off your chest._ "I sounds like to me, that your completely convinced that I am guilty." Bravura sighed deeply. "I didn't at first. But when you ran off, and didn't come back i knew you were guilty." _Come on Max._ Mona appeared behind Bravura._ He knows you did it._ Vlad appeared right next to her. _Shes right Maxie boy. There is nowhere else to run and hide. Join us in hell, its where you belong... _ Mona's physical appearance had changed, she became Michelle. "Michelle?" Max muttered. _Its been along time Max._ Tears welled up in his eyes. "Ive missed you, oh god!" Michelle smiled._ I know Max, so have I. Max, its time. _"Time for what?" _Time for you to go, let it go..._ She disappeared, they all disappeared. Bravura grunted, snapped Max out of it. "Max, do you still have your piece?" Max nodded and pulled it out, almost forgetting about it. Max sat it up on the desk. "Im gonna have to have a word with Dickenson on this." Bravura muttered. He picked the Beretta up. Over the years it had rusted, the sleek black casing replaced with a crimson hue of rust. Bravura felt the roughness of the years old rust, the gun was beyond serviceable. Bravura pulled the magazine out, and ejected four corroded nine millimeter rounds. "Max, this gun is no good. Why keep it?" "I mean its rusted so bad, i can't even pull the slide back to retrive the chambered round." Max sat there silent. Bravura sighed. He signaled, a officer. "Max im placing you into custody as of right now." The officer came in. "Take him to lock up." Bravura said. The officer grabbed Max's shoulder and escorted him out of the office. Bravura picked one of the bullets. "Jesus." He muttered.


End file.
